My Angel
by Crowley'sMooseSquirrel'sAngel
Summary: Bloody Mary had forced Sam to confront his darkest secret. But that didn't mean he could begin to move on. Sometimes, the best person to help you is the person you thought would never be around to help you anymore. Can Sam finally begin to move past Jess' death?


**Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.**

 **This little oneshot just struck me while I was at school and I had to write it and, y'know, share the feels around. Because that's what all good fangirls do! Also, this is sort of based off an absolutely beautiful bit of fan art that I found – just look up Sam and Jess fan art and you'll know it as soon as you see it.**

The room was dark and chilly, with only a crappy heater clunking overhead providing enough heat to stave off hypothermia but not enough to allow its occupants to actually stay warm. But even if he had been warm, Sam wouldn't have been able to sleep. While his brother snored away in the next bed, snatching up his usual four hours minimum of sleep, Sam remained wide awake, staring up at the ceiling with a racing mind.

The case he and Dean had just solved had been painful and brutal. Though he'd had nightmares about Jess blaming him for her death, it had been easier for Sam to shove these thoughts to the back of his mind during the day, when he was busy, and then suffer at night. But confronting Bloody Mary had forced him to face up to this and it had shaken Sam badly. Seeing that apparition of Jess standing on the street in her nightgown hadn't helped matters either – Sam thought that it might help him come to terms with her death but it had just made it even harder for him.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Sam mumbled. "It's my fault. I should have known."

Dean snuffled, making Sam jump and tense, but his brother just rolled over and continued to snooze. Sam looked back up at the ceiling, trying to make his mind go blank, and he was rewarded half an hour later when his eyes began to close and he drifted off to sleep.

When Sam opened his eyes, he frowned and sat up, automatically lifting an arm to block out the sunlight. Where was he? He seemed to be in some sort of grassy field but it looked too perfect to be real; the clouds were too fluffy, the sky was too blue, the grass was too rich and green and the flowers seemed too vibrant. And when he'd fallen asleep, he'd been in the motel room. So where the hell was he?

"Hello?" he called cautiously, clambering to his feet. There was no reply but that didn't mean that he was safe, so Sam remained on his guard as he turned and surveyed his surroundings. The grass seemed to run on forever, dots of colours scattered throughout it, and there was not a tree in sight. Sam picked a random direction and trudged off slowly, looking around all the while.

"Sam."

Sam froze at the familiar voice. Was that –? But it couldn't be! Could it? He slowly turned around and his mouth dropped, his mind suddenly failing to work.

"J-Jess?" he croaked when he finally found his voice. In front of him was Jess, smiling tenderly at him. Her blonde curls were loose, framing her angelic face which was radiating love, and she was dressed in a simple white dress that was similar to the nightgown she had died in but not identical. A halo of light encircled her head and bathed her face in soft light and a pair of enormous, shimmering, iridescent angel wings was spread out behind her.

"Hello, Sam." Jess cupped Sam's face and he nearly cried because her touch just felt so _real_ and he'd missed the feeling of her soft hands ever since her death!

"But – how – are you real?" Sam stammered. "Is it really you, Jess?"

Jess just smiled mysteriously and sat down on the grass, pulling Sam down with her. She gently guided his head to her lap and then began to stroke his hair in that painfully familiar way that she used to do when she was alive.

"It's just your mind, Sam." She brushed a strand of brown hair out of Sam's eyes, while his heart deflated. "But that doesn't mean it isn't me."

Sam looked up at Jess' shimmering face, trying not to break down and cry.

"Why are you here?" he said. "Why am I dreaming about you? What happened to my nightmares?"

Jess didn't answer at first, instead continuing to idly toy with his hair.

"I've come to give you peace, Sam," she finally said. "You have to move on. What happened was not your fault."

"What? But – but I saw your death! I could have stopped it! I should never have gone with Dean!" Sam cried. "I was out of the life! I should have stayed that way!"

"You could never get out, Sam. And I think you know that. I think, deep down, you know that there's no escaping a hunter's life once you're in. I think you know that that's the reason for my death. Someone, or something, doesn't want you to leave."

Sam closed his eyes, Jess' beauty and love briefly overwhelming him. He heard Jess give a little sigh and then she was carefully pulling him up and embracing him, her massive wings wrapping around him and filling him with a sense of warmth and security. Sam rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in her familiar scent of honey and flowers, tears finally breaking free sliding down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Jess," he sniffled. "I'm so, so sorry. I should have done something. I shouldn't have ignored those dreams!"

"Hey," Jess lightly chided. "You were perfectly reasonable not to believe those dreams. And do you really think that I would have believed you? I would've called you crazy. There was no way to stop it and that's what you need to get through your thick, shaggy head."

She ruffled Sam's hair. Sam let out a choked laugh and clutched her tighter.

"You need to move on, Sammy." Jess cupped Sam's face, lifting it off her shoulder, and gave him a slow, deep, loving kiss. "I'm in a better place now. It's okay to move on. Go find the thing that killed me and your mother, meet other women and settle down with someone else."

"But – I love you, Jess." Sam sounded broken and lost. "How can I move on? I can't betray you like that!"

"Is it betrayal?" Jess said. "You'll always love me. You know that. But that doesn't mean that you should make yourself miserable for the rest of your life. Out there is probably another woman who'll be lucky enough to have you and I want you to go and find her. Do it for me. I don't want you to be sad and lonely for the rest of your life."

Sam nearly cried again at the love and forgiveness in Jess' eyes.

"I'm sorry, Jess," he whispered.

"I know, baby." Jess' wings tightened around Sam, cocooning him in a feathery ball of warm love. Her halo was dimmer now but it did not diminish Jess' brightness – if anything, it intensified it. "But I want you to move on. Even if you still feel like this is your fault – and it really isn't – I want you to put this behind you and move on. I love you, Sammy."

Jess leaned in and kissed Sam again and he just closed his eyes and sank deeper into her embrace. Her lips were warm and soft and tasted like the chocolate chip cookies she'd loved to bake and eat and Sam eagerly kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close and running his hands through her feathers –

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Sam's eyes flew open and he bolted upright. He was back in the crummy, freezing motel room instead of the open field, sitting in the uncomfortable bed instead of in the soft grass, with Dean's smirk next to him rather than Jess' loving smile. "Man, you were out of it! The nightmares finally stop?"

Sam rolled his eyes but he was smiling softly as he slid out of bed without a word and rummaged through his clothes for something clean to put on after his shower. Dean's eyebrows rose.

"What the hell'd you dream about?" he said. "I haven't seen you smile like that in months, bitch."

"Nothing, jerk," Sam laughed. "I just dreamed about…something I needed to hear."

Dean looked at him strangely but said nothing in favour of going to claim the bathroom before Sam could. Sam looked up at the cracked ceiling again, his eyes stinging, and as tears started to slide down his cheeks, he allowed another smile to cross his face.

"Love you, Jess," he murmured to the heavens. He got no response, of course. But when a slight breeze ruffled his hair despite the closed windows and doors and the smell of honey and wildflowers permeated the room, Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself to properly grieve for the woman he loved.


End file.
